ron maatita

(Andree here) Ron sent me this last night.

He meant to get up at the Rising and read it, but sometimes there's only so much the heart can take at a particular time. Here at the blog it's here safely to be read over and over. So excellent Ron, you have the com. . .

* * *

These words sat folded in my pocket for the duration of the celebration.

I met Erik in the fall of 1990 (or there about). Back then I was a design school dropout driving a courier van for LA Gear in Los Angeles, and I was fully intent on becoming a footwear designer. No schools were teaching Athletic footwear design at that time and I’d hoped the best way to learn the craft was from the inside. Once inside the company I forced my design portfolio onto anyone who would entertain me. From CFO’s to salespeople, designers to janitors, I was met with the usual pat on the head and canned words of encouragement, until I met Erik.

I approached the largest man I’d ever meet, whom at the time sported the largest braided ponytail I’d ever seen, expecting to be flicked away like the pest I was convinced to be. To my pleasant surprise, he spoke to me with a sincerity and enthusiasm yet to be rivaled by anyone in my life. He had a way of speaking to this stranger as if I were the only person at the party. Over time he took me under his expansive wings and molded me into a footwear designer, we became friends as well. In early 1994 I finally earned the design 1 position for Mens and Boys footwear, working under my mentor and buddy. I owed him immensely.

The next few years at Gear are where I honed my skills and continued my education. In addition to the hard work and late nights, Erik taught me to find inspiration in the world around me, as it was everywhere. We partook in field trips to stimulate the mind, dug through countless boxes of airplane parts, watched sculptures which shot fire and destroyed themselves and on at least one occasion, witnessed a man in Golden Gate Park who appeared to be in his 50’s fully dressed like a baby, diaper, bonnet and all. Inspiration came from all of this. He also taught me the fine art of filing margarita mix in my file cabinet under “M” and how to drink Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in full view of the company’s security cameras, after hours of course.

After Erik left the corporate world I joined him as a sub contractor to Purdom Footwear Design. This was to become the absolute pinnacle of my career. We took on only the most interesting of challenges and quickly became a sought after “full service” resource. From design to hand made prototyping, promotional vehicles to protective sport brassieres, we did it all- and I’m proud to say that we did it better than the other guys. As with all things worthy, the challenges proved to be stressful and we faced them with grace and endless amounts of laughter. At this point in time our careers became our lifestyle. This was no job. The days were long and the projects were rewarding. I was proud that Erik referred to me as his #1 through it all. I long for those days.

In our years together, we shared an eventful and interesting bond. He was the man responsible for my pre-wedding pep talk. We shared the births of our first daughters and the untimely deaths of our fathers-in-law, who died exactly a week apart in 1998. We shared celebrations and music, meteor showers and micro brews, uproarious laughter and tears. I can still feel the pain of the collision we suffered as we carved the Summit Run, snowboarding in Big Bear. Though I don’t think he suffered as much as I did.

I made the difficult decision to return to the corporate world in 2001. Erik and I had remained friends, though his returning to Washington State and our life’s demands would keep us apart. We’d go on to see each other at trade shows and during the odd business trip. Each meeting only reminding me of how much I missed him. He was never too bashful to tell me that he felt the same way. On a winter evening in 2006 I walked him to his cab in Las Vegas (Yes, many a drink flowed that night). Before he pulled away Erik got out of his cab as if he’d forgotten something and said, “I miss you, buddy”.

The last time I saw Erik was in early August. I was fortunate to spend a couple days in Washougal. Even in sickness he still showed concern for others. Looking at the clock, he urged me to get on the road and not miss my flight. The last tearful words I shared with him were that I loved him and that he’s always with me. I also told him that he’s the best friend my life has ever had. I left, convinced that we’d see each other again.

Erik gave me gifts of knowledge, experience and friendship. He opened doors for me. I can only honor him by sharing that knowledge which he so selflessly gave to me. I will never again meet anyone like Erik Purdom.

I will miss him painfully for the rest of my life.